


Collection of Sherlock Imagines

by AHintOfPestoAioli



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AUs, Dentist, Doctor - Freeform, Domestic, F/M, Hair cut, Highschool AU, Imagines, Jim is cocky, John Watson cameos every once in awhile, Mrs. Hudson - Freeform, One Shot Collection, Oneshot, Redbeard - Freeform, Sexy Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, granddaughter, reader is smart, sexy jim, some were requested
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHintOfPestoAioli/pseuds/AHintOfPestoAioli
Summary: A collection of all my imagines and oneshots of Sherlock/Reader and Jim/Reader. They aren't in any order, nor are any of them connected. Please enjoy.





	1. Falling For The Landlady's Granddaughter (Sherlock Holmes/Reader)

**Author's Note:**

> If you like these, please give them a comment or kudos. Thanks!

Stepping out of the cab, you opened your umbrella quickly, spreading it so no London rain would hit you. It was your first time to 221B and you were very excited to see your grandmother, Mrs. Hudson. You had talked to her on the phone all the time, and you had learned about her new renters that moved in a few years ago. You heard that they worked with the police, but you still didn’t like the fact that they could possibly be putting your dear grandma at risk.  
You hadn’t seen her since your grandfather died years ago. Which, in your opinion, was the best thing to ever happen to her. She could finally be the independent woman she always wanted to be. But you made sure to call her and check up regularly.  
Feeling the brisk, wet, breeze sting your face, you hurriedly walked up to the big black door with a crooked doorknock on it. Instinctively, you straighted it and knocked on the door. A couple of yells and the sound of a violin screeching to a halt alerted you that someone was on their way to the door. You impatiently tapped your foot, and sighed. After hearing someone fidget with the door lock, verily understanding their muttering about how stupid door locks were, the door finally swung open with a big creak. A tall man with curly hair and a silk purple shirt greeted you. Well, not greeted, more of a “What do you want?”.  
“You must be Sherlock,” you smiled, attempting not to judge this man before getting to know him, “My grandmother has told me all about you.” You threw in a little wink at the end just to throw him for a loop. He stood there confused for a moment before quickly hiding his dismay. “Your grandmother?” he repeated, not really believing you. “Yes, my grandmother, Mrs. Hudson.” You said gritting your teeth, beginning to get frustrated because you were still standing out in the freezing rain.  
He stood there staring at you for a few more moments, before you heard more footfalls coming down the stairs behind Sherlock. “Sherlock! Let the poor girl in!” This other man who was only a little taller than you reprimanded Sherlock. Shoving him aside, the gray haired man shot you a sympathetic smile, and grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. He took your umbrella and coat and hung them up for you. “Hello, John.” You said, the man gave you a questioning look because he hadn’t even introduced himself yet.  
“At least, I assume your John.” you backtracked, “My grandmother has told me alot about you guys.” you blushed, looking down. John just smiled at you.  
Sherlock, who had been surprisingly quiet this whole time, finally piped up asking John, “Mrs. Hudson has a granddaughter?”, with a suspicious look on his symmetrical face. You mentally slapped yourself for taking interest in Sherlock. “Yes, she does.” You said matter-of-factly, extremely close to rolling your eyes. John took that liberty himself and rolled his eyes for you, saying, “Have you not listened to literally anything Mrs Hudson has said? It was all she could talk about for the past 4 weeks, Sherlock!” at this point he was starting to get ticked off at the taller man so you decided to break it up before it actually became anything worse. Placing a hand softly on John’s shoulder, you smiled gently to him. “Its fine, John. I promise.” you told him, calming him down. Sherlock just huffed and said, “Well, I have a client upstairs so please do try to keep the ruckus down to a minimum.” already walking up the staircase not waiting to hear your response. John once again gave you a sympathetic look, and followed up after Sherlock.  
Looking around the foyer, you noticed a couple of things. A large wool coat and a deerstalker hung up on the coat rack next to yours, and a little wooden dresser sat by the door. Peering onto it, you saw a note addressed to you. Beaming, you realized that it was from your grandmother. Opening up the lilac colored envelope, you pulled out the note.  
It read:  
Dear, Y/N. By now, if your reading this, I assume that you (somehow) made it in here past Sherlock. John probably helped you. Just know that I have gone to the market to pick up some stuff for the boys (although I’m not their housekeeper) and some tea, so I’ll be back soon. Help yourself to some tea in the kitchen upstairs. Love, Mrs. Hudson  
Sighing, you carefully place the note back in the envelope and put in into your bag. Hearing someone’s deep voice yell out, “Boring!” you decided to head upstairs and check everything out.  
Peeking your head into the living room at the top of the staircase you saw Sherlock and John sitting opposite of eachother and another man whom you had not yet met sitting on the couch on the wall. Leaning up against the door frame, you decided to watch the infamous Sherlock Holmes deduce. The man sitting on the couch seemed to you to be about 50 years old, and from the clear yellowing of his front teeth and lips he was a lifetime smoker, different types of cat hair and scratches were all over him, had recently removed his wedding ring, and looked to be genuinely upset about something.  
“Im telling you!” the man proclaimed, “They killed my wife and ran off with her body, I watched them do it.” he shouted, breaking down almost into tears. John offered him a cup of tea, and some biscuits while Sherlock looked indifferent. “Clearly, ” Sherlock began, “You killed her.” Everyone in the room gasped and was visibly taken aback at his sudden out burst. Stepping into view, you asked Sherlock, “Why?”. “Why what?” he asked you, acting as though you were bothersome, and not looking you directly in the eye. “Why do you say that this man is guilty?” you repeated, explaining your question in a little more detail for him.  
Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes, “Fine, if you must know. This man is not yet old enough to not be able to carry a fully grown person, has recently removed his wedding band, a clear sign that he didnt want anyone to know that he was married, and he has scratch marks on his arms from where he was carrying something, or someone.” He stated, smirking ever so slightly. You acted as though you had just seen one of the seven wonders of the world, hand over your chest, mouth agape. Then you dropped the facade instantly. Smirking to yourself, you walked around Sherlock’s chair, and took a seat in John’s chair, who was standing behind you, ready for you to reveal something, he just didn’t know what.  
“You see, dear Sherlock, your wrong.” You simply said, matching his previous look of indifference, and taking a sudden interest in your nails. You heard a small breath of disbelief escape from John’s mouth, making you feel even more empowered. “What?” Sherlock spat, growing more and more fed up with you as the seconds passed.  
“I said your wrong.” you said again, this time drawing out the word ‘wrong’.  
“Pray tell.” Sherlock said in a fake tone, placing his slender fingers together and placing two under his chin. Smirking, you launched into your reasoning for the mans innocence. “This man is a life time smoker, so clearly his lungs wouldn’t be up to the job for carrying anyone anywhere for any distance, he has approximately 5 different cats, judging by the scratches on his arms and the hair all over him, which tell us that he takes care of them daily, a job which he must have taken over once his wife went missing and I’m most certain that he doesn’t leave the house much because of the cats wreaking havoc, and the missing ring? His wife died, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want to be reminded of that everyday either. Oh but he does keep it in his left front pocket.” you triumphantly stated to a shocked Sherlock and a grateful client.  
There was a long, awkward (for Sherlock at least) silence as the rest of the people in the room sat in awe. Sherlock knew he had been wrong. And he despised it.  
A light knock on the door announced the presence of someone else, and a small woman walked in. You instantly stood up, smiling from ear to ear pulling the little old woman into a tight hug. “Well boys, I assume you’ve met my granddaughter, Y/N?” she said proudly, releasing you from the hug.  
Sherlock grabbed the tea from John’s hand and took a sip. “I like her.” He said, and walked out of the room. Now it was your turn to be in shock.  
*time skip*  
Many months had passed since you took that first trip to your grandmother’s. The Scotland Yard offered you a job as a detective, and you also moved into 221B. Sherlock and you had become close friends, and John knew how to keep you both under control. John knew that something was different about Sherlock since the first day you had arrived. He just couldn’t put his finger on it until one day after a case, you were all sat around the tv, you and Sherlock on the couch, and john in his usual chair. John noticed Sherlock slip his arm around your shoulder, something you didn’t pay any attention to, and start talking into your ear, making you laugh loudly and accidentally snort. Sherlock smiled happily to himself, clearly proud of making you laugh, as he grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl that was steadied precariously on both of your laps.  
The lightblub went off in John’s head as he realized what was happening. You two were falling for eachother and you didn’t even know it. John also knew that if either of you realized it, you would never say anything to the other, for fear of losing the other person.  
So that night, John took it into his own hands to get you two together. He texted Mycroft and Lestrade, requesting both of their assistance. Mycroft unwilling agreed, and Lestrade had seen this coming a long time ago, and already had some ideas about how to go about this scheme.  
*time skip*  
You and Sherlock were on a case together, trying to find a missing puzzle piece that you both assumed was Moriarty’s doing. Walking into an abandoned house you heard the floor in another room creak. Putting your hand on Sherlock’s chest, you stopped him, putting a finger up to your lips to tell him to be quiet. He nodded, and you both slowly proceeded forward. Walking round the corner to where a indoor pool was, you both looked around for someone. The sound of a gun getting cocked behind you made both of you stand bolt upright.  
“Put your hands up and turn around slowly.” A voice said, that sounded like it had been manipulated by some machine. You did as your captor said, putting your hands up, and turning around to face them.You quickly noticed that the man with the gun trained on Sherlock, was noticeably shorter than Sherlock, but you couldn’t deduce anything else because his whole body was covered in black cloth.  
“You don't seem to have much luck around pools, do you Sherlock?” The voice said menacingly. “Apparently not.” Sherlock replied, every so slightly stepping forward. The gun was re-aimed at only you, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “One more step and she’s dead, Sherlock.” The voice warned. “Actually, I think I’ll kill her anyways.” he said, pulling back the hammer. Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes and braced yourself. Sherlock screamed at the top of his lungs, “No, please don’t kill her!” making you flinch and open your eyes. You looked at Sherlock who now had tears streaming down his face, his cheeks paled. “Any last words?” The man asked Sherlock. “Y/N,” Sherlock began, “I vowed to always protect you, and I promise that I will. Because,” he paused, “Because I love you, Y/N. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I cannot lose you.” He whispered to you, his voice cracking and shaking. “I love you too, Sherlock Holmes.” you replied breathless, and shaky.  
Another voice cut your little moment short, as the captor said, “Turn around. Turn around, both of you!”, becoming inpatient. You did as the man said turning back around to the pool edge, grabbing Sherlock’s hand as you did so, squeezing his tight. The two of you shared a sad smile, as you heard the man walking closer and closer to the two of you.  
All of a sudden, four hands pushed you both into the pool. By the time you both surfaced, not seconds later still holding hands, you looked up to see John, Mycroft and Lestrade staring back at you. For a split second you feared the worse, that they were traitors, but the second you saw their wide smiles you realized what they had done. Vividly cursing them out as you pulled yourself and Sherlock out of the pool, Sherlock let go of your hand and slammed Mycroft up against the wall, demanding to know what was going on. Mycroft just pointed to John and said, “It was his idea.” Sherlock let go of Mycroft, fire burning in his eyes, as he stormed over to John. You placed yourself between him and John, and asked him, “Sherlock, you know what they did, right?”, gently placing your palms on his soaking wet chest. “No!” He exclaimed, a look of fear and uncertainty came over him.  
You just smiled and sighed, looking him in his deep blue eyes that reflected the pool water beautifully with you Y/E/C eyes. “They made us admit it.” you mumbled, biting your lip, not wanting to say it. “What?” Sherlock asked again, not understanding. You blushed, cheeks turning ruby red. Instead of trying to explain it to him, you just gently placed your hand on his cheeks and slowly put your lips to his. An emotion was awoken for both of you that neither of you had ever felt before.  
Love. Breaking the kiss, and still holding his cheeks in your hands, you asked him in his ear, “Do you understand now?”, chuckling lightly.  
He smiled and grabbed one large orange blanket from Lestrade, wrapping it around the both of you. “Yes, I understand.” He beamed, putting his forehead against yours, whispering, “I love you, Y/N.”  
A huge tidal wave of emotion swept over you, and you grabbed his hand under the blanket, and whispered back, “I love you too, Sherlock.”


	2. The Hair Conundrum (Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos. Thanks!

“Hey Rapunzel, can you come in here a minute?” You heard a voice call out to you, followed by the snickering of two voices, from a different room in the surprisingly spacious flat that is, 221B Baker St. “Shove it, John.” you hissed, subconsciously grabbing your long, Y/H/C locks, and twisting them around your finger, as you had grown to do wherever you were nervous or upset. “Oh do come, Y/N, we need you for an experiment.” Sherlock says this time. “Fine.” you said bitterly, letting go of your hair and walking to the sitting room where your best friends sat. “Better not involve my hair, Sherlock.” you muttered under your breath as you got closer. “It won’t involve that much of it.” you hear him say to John, and they both start laughing again. You froze, closed your eyes, balled your fists up, and took a deep breath. You breathed out and released your hands, and opened your eyes, regaining what little composure you had that day, and finished walking into the living room.   
John sat in his usual chair, Sherlock opposite of him, crosslegged. You sighed, taking a seat on the couch. “What do you want, Sherlock?” you asked, not really wanting to know.   
Silence.  
Many moments passed.  
He didn’t reply. You frowned, and looked to John for answers. John just rolled his eyes at Sherlock, and turned towards you and said, “You know the rules, you got to sit in the chair if you want him to talk.” he gestured to the little chair by them. “Well then,” you said exasperated, standing from your position on the couch, walking over to behind Sherlocks chair bending down, “Too bad I dont want to hear what he has to say.” you breathed into his ear, making him shiver. You smirked, clapping him on the shoulder.   
John shot Sherlock an odd look, and your smirk dropped and you frowned. “You ok, Sherly?” you asked in a teasing tone.   
“Im fine.” he said, voice hoarse as he stood up from his seat, and excused himself to the kitchen.   
“Okay then?” you said, giving a funny look to John, which he just brushed off. Sick of dealing with them for awhile, you told them you were going out to pick up some groceries. You took over that job from Mrs. Hudson after you moved in with the boys, because you felt bad for her having to lug all of the groceries back to the apartment for the four of you.   
Grabbing your coat from the rack, you picked up your keys and headed to the store.  
*slight POV change*  
The door clicked shut, letting the boys know that you had left, John spoke up. “Sherlock, what was that about?” he inquired, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it straight from Sherlock. “What was what, John?” Sherlock shot back in a tone that suggested that he really didn’t want to speak of this. He once again sat across from John, this time with tea in his hands. “Oh you bloodly well know what.” John said throwing his hand up. Sherlock sighed and said in a low voice, “Fine. I like Y/N.”   
Johns eyes grew wide, not expecting to get an answer out of him so easily. “I knew it!” John exclaimed, clapping cheerfully. “Oh don’t get so worked up John, we both know she doesn’t like me like that.” Sherlock responded, sounding dejected. John opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock cut him off. “I will support her in whatever relationships she decides to embark upon, as I assume you will, as well.” he said, raising an eyebrow to his partner in crime. “Of course. Its not like our sweet little Y/N would fall in love with someone like Moriarty.” he laughed. Sherlock smiled and stood up. “Im going to go start on that new case so Ill be in the kitchen. If you need me, don’t call for me.” he called to John. John just smiled and shook his head.  
*Time Skip and back to original pov*  
You returned home with the items from the shop with a different attitude, having calmed down a bit after earlier that day.   
You realized that they were just trying to help you, in their own, albeit borderline rude, ways. You had been trying to psych your self up for the past few months into getting a hair cut, because your hair had been getting quite long. The last time you had got your hair cut though, it had been a disaster. You vowed to yourself that you would never cut it again.   
At the time, it had seemed reasonable. But now, your hair had grown out so much that you were beginning to have a hard time keeping it in order. The boys knew this, so they had been trying to get you to cut it for months now.  
After delivering the cleaning supplies that Mrs. Hudson had asked for, you headed up to the kitchen to drop off the food. The smell of something burning as you opened the door, alerted you to the fact that Sherlock had the Bunson burner on.   
You walked into the kitchen and set the groceries down on the counter after waving hello to john, who was reading the newspaper at the table. Sherlock excused himself to the bathroom, not turning off the burner. Scooting past Sherlock’s station, your long hair flowing, you turned your back towards it and started putting away items into the cabinets. The burning smell changed dramatically, and began to intensify.  
“Hey John?” you asked, hearing him hummed, as if to ask you what you wanted, but not looking up from his paper. “Whats that smell?” you questioned, scrunching up your nose to the foul odor. Turning your head to look John in the face, he looked up and his eyes grew as big as saucers. “Y/N.” he said calmly, “Y/N, dont move.”  
“What?” you said, confused, as you watched him grab a pitcher of water from the fridge. Sherlock re entered to room at this point and pointed behind you and yelled, “Y/N! Your hair!”  
“WHAT?” you exclaimed, twisting around to see what was wrong. at that moment you felt the ice cold water from the refrigerator hit you hard on the back. You screeched and fell against the counter, shocked by the cold.  
After taking a shower and brushing your hair, you walked into the sitting room and turned around infront of your friends. “Well, how does it look?” you asked, not wanting to know. The gasps and mumbling was enough of an answer for you. You turned around to face them, to see them holding back laughter. You rolled your eyes, and promptly said, “I set an appointment at a hair salon for tomorrow. You idiots are coming with me.” They just nodded, still withholding their chuckles. You walked into your room and had a fitful night of sleep.  
Then next morning, you woke the boys up, and you all piled into a taxi that took you to the salon. They had since stopped making fun of your hair and began to ensure you that it would go perfectly fine.  
“Whats the name of your stylist, Y/N?” John inquired, to which you responded, “He just said him name was Jim.” Sherlock visibly shuddered at that name, and you chose not to ask why.  
Arriving at the salon, you finally plucked up the courage to go inside. After telling the clerk your name, she told you to talk a seat and that your hair cutter would be out shortly. You made Sherlock and John sit in the big, fluffly pink chairs in the lobby because they were the reason you were here, and they just silently obliged you.  
You nervously tapped your fingers on the chair, wishing that your friends could be in the room with you.   
You heard a door shut, and footfalls coming closer to you. You turned and looked at the man you could only assume was Jim. You lightly gasped when you saw him, but quickly tried to conceal it. He was gorgeous, and apparently very attentive, becuase he caught the little noise you made, and just flashed a large smile to you. You instantly turned to mush, giggling under this man’s gaze. This gave him more reason to smile as he introduced himself. “Hello, Y/N,” he elongated the vowels of your name and continued saying, “My name is Jim, and I will be your stylist today, and hopefully your date tomorrow?” he asked shyly.  
Taken aback at the sudden request, you paused. The two of you had an instant connection, and apparently he noticed it too. Having never really taken many risks in your life, you decided that today would be a day of changing that. “Alright, Jim, I accept your proposal, but on one condition.” you said as you smirked. “I love conditions.” he said curling his lips up into a flirty grin. “You have to do a good job on my hair.” you told him, picking up the burnt ends and showing them to him. For the first time, he noticed your hair, and he exhaled sharply. “This date might be harder to score than I thought.” he said taking your burnt, Y/H/C hair in his large hands.  
Two hours and alot of small talk passed, and Jim was finally done with your hair. Turning you around in the chair, you saw yourself for the first time. It looked like a totally different you. A ‘you’ that you liked very much. With your hair drastically shorter you felt empowered. You handed Jim your phone number and his tip saying, “I suppose this haircut will go well with our date tomorrow.”   
Jim smiled and told you he would walk you to the front of the store. You agreed, walking around the corner first, Sherlock and John halted their conversation to stand up and stare at you. They almost missed the man that was standing behind you. Almost. John’s eyes widened in fear as he quickly told you to step away from that man. Sherlock tried to lounge at Jim, but he easily side stepped him, tripping Sherlock. “Guys! Thats enough! What is the matter with you?” you yelled at your best friends as the both tried to move you away from Jim. “I guess they just don’t like your hair cut, hun.” Jim sighed, giving you a sad look. You frowned, as John and Sherlock piped up both talking and yelling at the same time. Sherlock said some particularly nasty things to Jim, which made you even madder. Jim feigned being hurt by the insults. Not understanding the situation, and not being able to understand either of them when they were both talking at the same time, you grabbed them both by an ear and sat them down. That quieted them down pretty quick, so you spoke, “Now, why are you being such jerks to my date?”   
Moments passed.  
“Your what?” Sherlock spat out, unable to trust his hearing. “My. Date.” you repeated, gritting your teeth. A hand at the small of your back made you feel protected. “Yes, Sherly dear,” you heard Jim begin to speak, “A date. With me. Tomorrow. Do you have a problem with that?” he hissed. Slightly confused about the fact that Jim somehow knew Sherlock’s name, you took a step away from him. “Wait a second.” you said, beginning to put the pieces together, “Jim… Moriarty?” you asked him, unable to believe it. “In the flesh.” he said, with a swift wink to you.   
Reminding yourself that this was a day for change, you turned to your friends and said, “Why didn’t you tell me he was so hot?”. John choked and Sherlock looked like he might pass out. “I’m off my shift now, if you’d like to go out on that date now?” Jim’s hot breath in your ear almost made you squirm. Nodding, you took his hand and began to lead him out the door. Sherlock called your name, and you stopped. “May I speak to you, alone?” He asked. Nodding your head to Jim, he went out and started his car up.  
“What, Sherlock?” you asked, not looking him in the eyes. “I,” he began, “I just want to let you know that im here for you if you ever need me. Forever and always.” he muttered, pulling you into a hug. Shocked, you quickly hugged him back, taking in his scent of tobacco and whatever cologne he used. “Thank you.” you said into his neck. He released you and smiled to you and wished you luck. You saw Jim standing in front of the door, waiting for you and that was your cue. You opened the door, and stepped outside. You turned and called back to them, “See you at dinner.” they smiled and waved to you. Jim offered his arm to you and you obliged him. The smile on your face couldn’t be taken from you in anyway that day.


	3. The Hair Conundrum Pt. 2 (Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is part 2 to the Hair Conundrum, co-written by my friend Daria on twitter.

You grumbled. It was 10pm on a Friday night, and yet again, you were home alone again. Jim had promised that when he got back you two would do something romantic, watch a movie or go out for food, but that wasn’t gonna happen. He was always home late, you thought. It wasn’t fair to you at all, and quite frankly, you were sick of it. You boiled the kettle and pulled out your favoured mug and Jim’s, you closed the cupboard, putting a tea bag in your cup. Maybe Jim would be home before the water got cold. As you waited for the water to boil, you sighed, leaning on the counter. In times like these, you missed Sherlock and John. At least there were two of them, you thought. If one was busy, the other could keep you company. But it wasn’t like that. Not anymore. You barely got to talk to them, and when you did, you feared for your life that Jim would find out. Your eyes started tearing up, but you didn’t let yourself cry. You had Jim, you had to remember that, even if it was hard to. You poured the water slowly into the mug, stirred your tea, and walked over to the living room, sitting on the couch. Your dog, Redbeard, sat in front of you, with one ear sticking up. Jim almost killed you when you came home with him for the first time last year. You grinned at the memory, and patted the sofa, signalling him to join you. The house you two, well, three, shared was huge. It was located just outside of London, so it was easy for Jim to get to the city to work. Every piece of furniture was at least £1000, Jim, being the posh boy he was, wouldn’t have it any other way. He would have a fit if he saw Redbeard sprawled across his new cushions. You took a sip of your drink, and sinked into the couch, closing your eyes. About an hour later, a key turned in the lock of the house. Redbeard bounced up quickly, and sprinted down the steps to the door. You rubbed your tired eyes and stood, leaning on the wall, facing the door. Jim entered, taking off and hanging his coat. “Get down! Down! Bloody dog!” He grumbled, trying to get the jumping dog off him. You smiled softly at the sight. Eventually the puppy lost interest and ran back up to you. Jim looked up at you and smiled. “Hello, my darling.” Your smile faded and you went back to the couch. Confused, he followed. “Where have you been? I waited up for you all night.” You almost hissed, sitting down. He frowned. “I was at work. You know how it is, Y/N.” You just pulled your knees up and crossed your arms, sick of hearing his excuses. “What if I needed you here?” You said. “If it was an emergency, you call, you always call me when you need me in an emergency.” He replied, getting defensive now. “No Jim, not for a damn emergency. What if I just need you around!” You yelled, eyes getting watery. You knew you shouldn’t have yelled at him. “It’s not my bloody fault I have a job,” He started, walking around, slowly raising his voice. “It’s not my fault other people need me.” He continued, walking to the kitchen to a stack of dishes. “And it’s definitely not my fault you always need me around!” He picked one up with firm hands, throwing it against the wall beside your. Redbeard jumped up and barked loudly at him, before running away. You broke into tears and stood up, “YOU’VE SCARED HIM!” You screamed, following Redbeard into your room and slamming the door shut, locking it. Jim fell onto the couch with his head in his hands. He always had major anger problems, and didn’t know how to keep them under control around you. He heard you crying, so he made his way to the door, leaning his head against it. “Come on love… Open up…” James knocked quietly. “GO AWAY!” You yelled back, throwing a pillow at the door. Your tears streamed quickly down your face, falling onto Redbeard’s fur. He tried to kick them away but soon gave up, resting his head on your shoulder. You stopped crying, and slowly stroked his fur, breathing heavily. You just wanted Jim to be with you. That’s all you had ever wanted. “I want one of those large bears, 3 boxes of the best chocolate in England, some champagne, and you better hurry up.” James threatened into his phone. His accent always got thicker and stronger when he was angry, that scared you sometimes. Within 20 minutes, Jim’s men arrived with his requests and disappeared. Jim crept to your door, and picked the lock as he had done many times before when you were upset. “Sweetheart?” He whispered, stepping in and setting all the stuff on the end of the bed, where Redbeard was sleeping. You snuffled and sat up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “What’s all that?” You asked, voice cracking. Jim smiled and showed off your presents to you. You smiled. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to get time off work, it’s just, this job.. It’s very quite stressful.” He chuckled, not making eye contact, but still petting the dog. “I understand, and I’m sorry too. I was being needy and clingy, and I didn’t mean to upset you-” you started, but Jim cut you off with a kiss. He pushed you down onto the bed forcefully, taking you by surprise. You giggled. “Jim, not now,” he chuckled and nodded, falling down beside you. He pulled the covers above the two of you, pressing his body close to yours. He grinned down at you, and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, making you turn red. “I can never stay angry at you, it’s infuriating.” You mumble into his chest, smelling his £400 cologne. “You love me and you know it.” He said with a cocky smirk, running his hands through your hair, before reaching a knot, accidentally pulling on it lightly. “Ouch. I love you less now.” You said, tangling your hands in your head to fix the knot. “This reminds me of when we met, you and your little fear of scissors.” He chuckled, earning a smack from you. “I don’t have a fear of scissors, you idiot.” You playfully responded. “That was a year ago, wow. So long ago. So looooong.” He teased, looking at your hair. “I’m never doing it again.” You said, looking up at him and grinning. You loved playful banter with him. “We’ll see about that, dear.” He smiled widely down at you, kissing you again on the head. Redbeard barked, wiggling in between the two, demanding attention. “Damn brute..” Jim whispered, and you laughed, petting the dog. “And why are you on the bed?” James asked the dog, who looked at him confused, giving him a head tilt. You laughed, you always found Jim talking to the dog adorable. “Off.” Jim instructed, shooing Redbeard, who didn’t budge. “OFF!” He shouted. The dog just tilted it’s head again, and looked at you. You laughed as Jim groaned, pulling your boyfriend down back under the covers. “We should have trained him.” He mumbled into your neck. “I did, he just doesn’t like you.” You say. “And why’s that?” James asked, confused. “Cuz I told him to, no one’s allowed to love you more than I do.” You whispered, closing your eyes as you placed your head on his chest, closing you eyes. James wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you tighter. “I love you t-” he began speaking before your phone went off. The Sherlock ringtone was playing. Your eyes quickly darted over to the phone, and wished earnestly that it would stop ringing. Not daring to look over at Jim, you considered just letting the phone ring or rejecting the call, but you knew that would only make him more fixated on finding what you were hiding. Jim’s grip around you loosened as he recognized the tone. Feeling cold, both physically from the loss of his warm arms around you and emotionally at the fear of him thinking you were still in contact with Sherlock, you shuddered. You heard his jaw click from holding in his blooming anger. “Well,” he whispered quietly, “are you going to answer him?”. You turned towards him, finally gaining enough courage to look him in his cognac shaded eyes. You weakly asked him, “Do you want me to?” Fearing his answer. He exhaled, “Go ahead.” he gestured to the phone, looking away from you, his accent thickening. You sighed and shakily reached for your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Palms sweaty, you took the phone in your hands as your thumb hovered over the Accept button. You were nervous. Not only because you wondered how Jim would react to you speaking with Sherlock, but also the fact that this would be your first time speaking with Sherlock in a quite a long time. Delicately tapping the answer button, you hesitantly brought the phone up to your ear. You felt Jim tense up beside you, as you finally spoke into the phone, “Hello?” You heard some shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Sherlock’s deep voice filled your ear. “Hello, Y/N.” Closing your eyes, you pressed the phone closer to your ear, savoring hearing him speak to you again. You opened your mouth, preparing to ask him how he had been when he beat you to speaking, “Listen,” he began, sighing, “I know you’ve chosen your side, and I have finally come to terms with that.” Your voice caught in your throat as you felt tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “Don’t say anything else.” You managed to utter under your breath. You heard Sherlock hum in agreement, as you stood numbly from your warm spot under the down filled comforter. Ignoring Jim’s silent protests against you leaving the room, you walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. Rubbing your temple, you told him to continue speaking. “I just wanted to let you know that I prefer for you to not try and make any contact with me or John anymore.” He said lowly, as if he feared he was being listened in on. “Oh Sherlock-” You sobbed, hearing the words you prayed you would never have to hear. “You don’t understand.” He quickly cut you off, “It’s for your own good.” You could now hear his voice cracking, the emotions overwhelming him. “It will be soon, I know it.” He whispered. You acknowledged this, knowing what he was talking about. You both knew that Sherlock and James were coming closer and closer to having a final battle as the days passed. You dreaded the day that the war commenced. “I have kept him off my tail for as long as I possibly could.” He explained, confidence beginning to back his words. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it off, and I don’t want you to get hurt by him.” He admitted. You were touched by his sentiment, but annoyed at his rude words about your boyfriend. “Jim would never-” You retorted, getting slightly defensive at his accusatory words. “You don’t know that.” Sherlock interrupted, his voice raising. Frowning with frustration, “WIll you let me speak?” You bit out, through gritted teeth.”Go on.” He replied after a moment of silence. Collecting your thoughts, you responded, saying, “ I trust James with my whole being. I love him, Sherlock. He would never do anything to hurt me, and I know that.” Feeling a weight lifted off of your shoulders, you sighed almost contently. “Yes, I’m sure the psychotic criminal is the correct person to trust.” He jeered, mocking you. Clenching your fist, you slammed it against the counter. “Sherlock, I’m warning you.” You cautioned with an empty threat. “Jim will never hurt me, and if you don’t believe me when I say that, then I’m afraid you will never be able to win against us.” You continued, drawing your line in the sand, making a final stand on Jim’s side. Wiping away a stray tear, you heard him scoff. The door from your bedroom opened, as you heard Jim start to walk towards the kitchen, Redbeard padding along beside him. “Well then,” Sherlock sighed, “I suppose I won’t be seeing you for a while.” You nodded in agreement, knowing that this may well be one of the last times you speak to him. “Just know,” He said, Jim coming into your view, taking a seat on one of the bar stools across from you. “You are one of the best and smartest people I’ve ever met. Don’t tell John I said that,” he chuckled sadly, causing you to smile, “I want to see you again.” He said softly, “I just want to protect you, Y/N.” He softly said, you both knowing that this would most likely be your last time talking to each other. “Well, I’ll see you then, Sherlock.” You said, smiling into the phone. You heard a click, and the faint beeping sound as you realized the call was disconnected. Your heart fell inside of your chest, all of the words that you wished you had said to him crashing down on you. You looked over to Jim was sat silently, arms crossed, and avoiding your eyes. Setting the phone down, you walked over to him. You could feel the anger emanating from him, a rage ready to burst at any moment. He had politely asked you not to speak to Sherlock and John after you had started dating. Then, once you became a serious couple, he told you not to talk or see them anymore. You, of course, did nothing of the sort, and met with them every once in awhile to catch up over lunch or a cup of tea. You had specifically told both parties that you would not tell the other the whereabouts or anything to suggest any weaknesses about anyone. Placing a tentative touch on Jim’s shoulder, he let his emotions loose. “You talk to them?” He yelled, brushing your hand off and standing up. He stormed to the other side of the room, his face red. “I can explain.” You said slowly walking towards him, trying to soothe him. “How could you?” He spat quietly, whipping his body around to face you. You stopped in your tracks and put your hands up in front of your face instinctively, even though you knew he would do nothing to harm you. A concerned look came over his face, worried that you thought that he would hurt you. Softening his tone slightly, he sneered, “Do you know how long i’ve been searching for Holmes?” He shook his head and walked past you, heading back towards the bedroom. “I have no clue where he is at all, James.” you said sternly to him behind you. He sighed, and said, “Yeah, I’m sure.” in a non-believing voice. “I’m telling you.” you said again, turning to face him at the doorframe of your shared bedroom. “I don’t believe you.” he simply said, after studying your eyes for a moment. You rolled your eyes, and pushed past him into the bedroom. If he wouldn’t hear you out, then neither would you listen to him, you thought. His breathing quickened, indicating that he was getting angry again at your lack of cooperation, as he faced you inside the room. You made the bed, pulling the now cold covers up over the pillows, Redbeard standing near your feet protectively as you did. Jim stormed off into another room, returning moments later with something in his hand. He stalked up behind and gently tugged on a section of your hair. Pulling you by your hair over to a mirror, you saw the manic look in his eyes. Flashing the silver blades in the mirror, you knew he was holding scissors. An evil sneer spread across his face as he held up the large portion of your hair, inching the scissors closer and closer to your hair. A mix of worry and fear swept over you, as you desperately tried to get words out to stop him. “Tell me the truth, Y/N. Do you know where Sherlock Holmes is?” he asked into your ear, meeting your eyes in the reflection. Shivering, you frantically shook your head, all while muttering out a low, “No, no, no.” “Hmm.” He hummed, appearing to be deep in thought. He tapped the metal blades against his chin. “You know,” His Irish drawl thickened, “I…” He paused. “I don’t think I believe you!” He declared, flashing his pearly canine’s into a wicked snarl. “JAMES STOP!” You exclaimed, beginning to feel panic flush through your veins. He gave you a thoughtful look, considering your request, before shaking his head. “Sorry!” He bent down and crooned into your ear. He popped up quickly, Raising the hair that was still in his hands up above your head, he giggled, “Too late!” His brown eyes darken to an almost black color. “I’m gonna CUT YOUR HAIR!” He bellowed out. He flung the scissors around your hair wildly, with a crazed look on his face. He primed the scissors and put about four inches of your hair in between the blades and in slow motion started to close them. You shrieked and pulled away from him, pausing only when you heard the sound of your hair being sliced and Jim’s gasp. You slowly turned around to face him, anger boiling in your stomach. His eyes widened in regret as he dropped the scissors from his left hand, still holding your chopped off hair is his right hand. He defensively put up his hand and said, “ You know I was kidding, right?” He tried to laugh it off, and you weren’t having any of it. He backed away as you took each step closer to him. Redbeard left the room after feeling the anger radiating from you. Fists tightened, you ripped your hair from his hand and threw it to the floor. Jim’s face softened, having hardly ever seen you thoroughly upset at him. He decided that it was a side of you that he never wanted to see again as he looked at you storming towards him, fuming. Grabbing a fistful of his tee shirt, you slammed him hard up against the wall, you spoke in a deathly low whisper, “Why did you do it, James.” It didn’t really a come out as a question, more of a statement, but you didn’t care at that point. “I need to know where Sherlock is, Y/N, you know that.” He responded, looking you deep in the eyes. “I haven’t spoken to Sherlock in months, and you know that because I know you track my phone. So, no, that’s not your reasoning.” You noted, studying his face. He frowned, and repeated himself, “It’s all i’ve been talking about for the past month, Y/N.” You thought for a second, the pupils of your eyes dilating as you figured it out, “You’re jealous.” You smirked, loosening your grip on his shirt. “Am not.” He choked out, avoiding your eyes. “Are to!” You threw your head back and started laughing at how silly he was, as he had done to you so many times before. Confused, he snuck out from between you and the cold wall. A few moments passed, and your laughing slowed into a light chuckle here and there. He stood there watching you, smiling at how beautiful he found you. He realized why he truly cared so much about you talking to Sherlock, and he had been lying to himself. Yes, he was jealous that you talked to him, and that he had been giving the privilege to know you longer, but he also got jealous when you said ‘Thank you.’ to the grocery store clerk. Watching your carefree laugh, he noticed that it was because he wanted to protect you. “ You’re wrong you know.” He snickered, disagreeing with you. He walked around to face you, his look on his face vowing to speak nothing but the truth. He put his hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. You trembled at the touch, but not from fear. “Its because I want to protect you with my life, Y/N, and he puts your life in danger.” He expressed in a rare bout of sentimentality, maintaining your eye contact with him. You stared at him for a moment before bursting into tears. “What? What did I say?” James exclaimed suddenly, trying to backtrack and un-say anything that could’ve offended you. You could only shake your head, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. He pulled you into a warm embrace, and sat down with you on the bed. He let you cried into his shoulder until you calmed down some to where you could talk. Removing your head from its previous place under his chin, you looked up at his worried face. He brushed a few tear soaked hairs out of your face, and gently asked you, “What’s wrong?” You composed yourself, still tucked under his arm, and you began, “What you said,” you thought for a moment, “It was the last words he said to me, Jim.” The sudden understanding of your situation washed over him and he held you tighter in his arms. “My best friend!” You sobbed. He sighed and closed his eyes, unable to find the correct words to console you. So he just sat there, you in his arms until you were all cried out. He didn’t even complain when Redbeard came back into the bedroom and curled up on his lap. After you were finished crying, you unwrapped yourself from his arms, and walked over to the pile of gifts he had bought you earlier. You smile at him, and he nodded, you both understanding what you wanted to do. You picked up a large box of the European chocolates, and he switched on the 55” television. You both slunk under the covers and shared the sweets, while watching whatever awful programming was on at 1 AM. Redbeard managed to scoot his way in between the two of you, but Jim did not berate the poor animal this time. He put his arm around your shoulder and twisted the shortened section of your hair around his finger. “I can fix this if you’d like…” Jim mumbled, tugging ever so slightly on your hair, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You snorted, saying, “I think you’ve done enough for tonight.” James took mock offence to this statement and retaliated with, “What? You don’t think I can fix it?” “Oh it’s not that, honey.” you said with a kind smile, “I don’t want you to cut it.” He pouted, removing his arm from behind you and scooting away. Crossing his arms he huffed out a large puff of air and stuck out his bottom lip, looking away from you. You rolled your eyes, and shifted closer to him. You gently pulled his chin to face you, and you softly kissed his pink bottom lip. He dropped his facade, and grabbed you, pulling you on top of him. He tried to kiss you but you pushed yourself off of him. “Not tonight, buddy.” You laughed, a blush rising to your cheeks. He huffed again, and it was quiet in the large room for a few seconds. You heard him moving around beside you, but you were to busy watching the TV to pay any mind to him. He coughed, pulling your attention towards him. You screeched as you saw him about five inches from your face, smiling crazily, once again holding the scissors in his large hands. “NO!“ You yelled, pointing your finger at him. “I’m getting it done tomorrow and that’s that!” You stated, making him roll his eyes in exasperation. “Fine!” He said tossing the scissors to the other side room. Redbeard popped up off the bed and ran to the scissors, thinking he was playing fetch. He joyously loped back over to you with the shears in his mouth. You laughed as Jim sighed mumbling about the dog being stupid. You patted Redbeard on the head and took the scissors from him. He happily resumed his spot in the middle of the bed. Jim said something about being tired, and he laid down and turned away from you. You fondly smiled at the tool in your hands, recounting the many memories that the two of you have had over the course of your relationship due to such a normally insignificant item. Then you got an idea. For all of the problems Jim had caused you over the day, you wanted to get him back. You turned over to face James back, and grinned devilishly as you held the slobbery scissors above his ear. Opening and closing your hand, you made the tool make its signature “Snipping” sound. He screamed, the pitch so high it made Redbeard whine as you busted out into bellows of laughter. He sat bolt upright, and panted. “Don’t. Do. That.” He silently warned you, holding up a slender finger. You were just barely able to stop laughing long enough the ask him, “Why? Do you have a little fear of scissors?” mocking him, as he had done to you earlier that day. Clearing his throat, he began his speech, “I am a notable, high-class, criminal mastermind. I have meetings I have to attend, people I need to impress. So only I can cut my hair, and I will NOT,” He emphasised, wildly gesturing, “Let anyone else touch my hair, especially with scissors covered in dog spit!” He shook his head. You just started chuckling, placing the scissors on your nightstand. You wrapped your arms around his waist, against his weak protests, and cuddled with him. “You know,” You whispered, “I love you and would never do anything to harm your reputation.” He kissed your forehead, purring into your ear, “I love you too, darling.” You hummed contently, eyes drifting shut ever so slightly. Jim noticed this, and kissed you again. “Goodnight, my love.” he softly spoke. He faintly sang an old irish folk song into your ear, “'Twas early one morning a fair maid arose, And dressed herself up in the finest of clothes, And off to the shoemaker’s shop sure she goes, For the kiss in the morning early.” His rich irish accent shined through, lulling you into a peaceful sleep, a serene smile resting your face.


	4. Valentines Day (Sherlock Holmes/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines Day arrives and Sherlock has a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

“BORED.” Sherlock yelled through the flat, making you roll your eyes. Your boyfriend hadn’t gotten a case for a few days, and he was starting to go haywire. The last case he solved was on February 10th, four days before Valentine’s Day. You had told him that you would like to celebrate it, but he must have forgotten in the midst of being annoyed at the fact that he had no case to solve. It was about 7pm, and you had been hearing him complain all day long and it was starting to get on your nerves. You walked into the sitting room, and placed a cup of tea on the little table beside his chair. He was in his robe, sitting in his chair with his hands and fingers fidgeting nervously on his knees. You looked at him curiously, having only seen him like this a couple of times and took the seat opposite of him, in John’s chair, as he was out with Mary on a date. You rolled your eyes again, getting more and more ticked off about the fact that you and Sherlock were not celebrating this special holiday. You huffed as you took a sip from your too hot cup of tea, but let it scald you anyways. Sherlock looked you over, trying to deduce what was wrong with you. “Your on your period, I see.” He stated, as if it was it was the simplest thing in the world. You gasped at his sudden outburst. “NO!” You shrieked, standing up and stomping away into your shared bedroom. “What’s the matter then?” He called from the living room. “Nothing!” you shouted, “Nothing at all.” You pulled a nice blouse and a cute pair of dress pants from your closet and threw them on the bed. If Sherlock wasn’t going to take you out, you would go out yourself, you thought. You heard him shuffling around in the hall, flipping a calendar around and cursing it, until you heard him knock on your door frame, leaning against it. You sighed, exasperated, and turned to look at him. The silk robe hung loose on his tall stature, but was tight around his broad shoulders. You bit your lip at noticing how attractive he looked. His curly hair was tousled, his stubble starting to grow in, and his eyelids hooded. “Where do you think you’re going?” He drawled, voice deep from being restless. You pulled yourself from your daydreaming, and spoke to him while avoiding his eyes, “I’m going to go out for awhile.” He gave you a crooked half smile, and shook his head. “No your not.” He uttered under his breath. He took two large steps towards you. He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer to him. You breathlessly squeaked, “What are you doing, Sherlock?” He bent down to your ear and whispered, “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it?” His hot breath on your neck made you shiver. “So what are you doing?” you repeated, finally getting enough courage to ask. He pressed a quick peck to your lips and put his mouth beside your other ear and said, “Whatever you want, love.” You held in a moan, and willed your knees to stay strong beneath you, as you pushed yourself away from him. Pulling away, you saw the smirk that was pasted on his face. “Alright then.” you announced with newfound confidence, “We are going on a date.” He just nodded, and headed to the closet to grab a suit. “No, no, no.” you laughed, taking his hand in yours and pulling him closer. “Not that kind of date, silly.” you stated, dragging him into the living room. You pushed him down onto the couch and told him to call in a pizza. Confused as to why you didn’t want to go out on a fancy date, he did as you asked, while you grabbed some popcorn from the kitchen, the TV remote, and sat down beside him. You tucked yourself under his arm smiling up at him, turned on the television, and pulled up netflix. The pizza arrived about a quarter way through Love Actually, and you placed the box in front of the both of you. After sharing the pizza, you laid back against Sherlock’s warm side. It made you feel very content and happy. He ran his hands through your hair, and whispered funny little comments about how un-accurate the movies were into your ear. After watching two movies, playing some board games, and eating some chocolates that Sherlock had a very unhappy John drop off, you glanced at the clock seeing that it was about midnight. Sherlock nuzzled his nose into the crease of your neck making you giggle. “Stop it!” you chuckled, gently pushing him away. He just laughed and relented his attack. Calming down, you heard his phone start ringing across the room. Sherlock glanced to you, almost asking for your permission so he could answer the phone, to which you nodded. He stood up, making you feel the cold air rush around you from his lack of touch. He picked up his phone and answered it. “No, sorry, I won’t be able to help you, George.” He told the person on the other end of the line. You heard the man that was clearly Greg, say a very loud, “What!? Why not?” as Sherlock turned to you and winked. “I’m on a date.” He said, hanging up the phone and throwing it down into the chair. You grinned madly as he stepped closer to you. He put his hand out to you and asked, “M’Lady, may I have this dance?” You nodded, a blush touching your cheeks. You took his hand and you both danced around the room, Sherlock softly humming into your ear a song you had heard him play on violin many times prior. His palm rested at the small of your back, and your arms were wrapped around his neck loosely. You danced slowly like this until you both lost track of time. After dancing, you and him collapsed onto the couch together, and curled up beside him. He played with your hair some more, and pressed soft kisses to the top of your head. You hummed, slowing falling asleep until his voice woke you up again, “Why didn’t you want to go out on a date?” He inquired, genuinely curious. “Because,” you replied, “This is the dream date i’ve always wanted.” You gestured around you to the chocolate and pizza boxes, board games strew haphazardly across the floor, and movie cases piled on the coffee table. He smiled, understanding. “Well, this doesn’t have to be a once a year occurrence.” He smirked. “Oh?” you asked, teasingly. “Not. At. All.” he said, tipping your chin up to kiss him. You fell asleep in his arms, completely at peace.


	5. A Cure For Illness (Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets sick, and Jim takes care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

Ripping another Kleenex from the box a little too aggressively, you brought the rough tissue up to your red nose. Congested, sore throated and just plain feeling like utter trash, you half-heartedly threw the tissue toward the trashcan that you had placed near your semi-comfortable spot on the couch. Missing the shot, you rolled you eyes and almost thought about picked it up. Just moving your legs from their tucked position under your body made your entire being ache horribly. Quickly deciding against it, you went ahead and left it on the floor.  
Your boyfriend, Jim, was hard at work doing his consulting so he couldn’t be there to help you. Knowing which medicine might help you feel better and some soup, you reached for your phone to message Jim to pick some things up on his way home, groaning at the pain as you did.  
Jim’s latest facination was focused on Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. Simple minded folk, in your opinion. Sherlock was too worried about himself and not caring, to the point where he began to not notice things. Like the fact that you and Jim were the criminals he was looking for when you went down to the lab the other day. That was probably where you got sick from. Sherlock Holmes made you sick. Now you really wanted Jim to make his life miserable.  
Typing up a quick text to Jim, a list of what you needed from the store, you hit send and waited for a response. Turning the tv on, you watched some show about finding out who the father was, to which you made some snippy remarks and rolled your eyes at the obvious differences between the men in question and the children. You thought that watching it would take your mind off of your ailment, but you noticed that you were beginning to feel even more ill than before.  
Checking your phone about a half hour later, you almost chucked it across the room when you saw that there were no new messages. Grinding your teeth, you decided to call him before your throat began to burn even more. He had made it very clear to you that calling him at work was not his favorite thing in the world, but at this point you could not care less.  
He had asked you that morning if you wanted him to stay at home with you, when you told him that you weren’t feeling well. But you just brushed it off as having an off day and told him to go to work. He wasn’t so sure, and asked you again, as he pressed a cool hand against your feiry forehead. You insisted that he go, so he unwilling did. He was a good, caring man, but no one else seemed to see it.  
Dialing his cell number, you brought your phone up to your face, flinching as the cold screen touched your cheek. He quickly picked up, and spat out a “Hello?”, trying to sound tough. Chuckling to yourself you knew he must’ve been in the presence of someone important or a person that needed to have fear struck into their hearts. “Hey Jim. I’m going to need you to pick up a couple of things from the store.” you could barely rasp out. Rubbing your throat, you hastily unwrapped another cough drop and popped it in your mouth.  
“Of course.” he responded curtly after a few seconds. You heard someone in the background ask Jim, “Will this take very long?” which you noticed was Sherlock speaking. So Jim’s plan was working just fine. The thought brought a smile to your face that was quickly taken from you as you began to cough hard. You heard Jim almost begin to speak, to ask if you were okay, but he stopped himself, not wanting to give the enemy any possible ammunition.  
“Oh, please control yourself Sherly dear, you’ll get your attention shortly.” Jim commented sickly sweet. You could hear his snarl through the phone. “Nice one.” You croaked, grabbing another tissue from the box. “Get some more tissues too please.” you added.  
“Alright.” he said abruptly, “Anything else, or will I be needing to coax it out of you another way?” He hissed, still trying to sound as though he was bossing someone around. “Nope.” you stated, popping the P at the end.  
“Good then I will see you very soon.” He replied. He didn’t hang up the phone as he took it away from his ear though. You overheard him say to Sherlock and his pet, “Sorry boys, but I’m afraid this little meeting is going to have to be cut short.”  
“But don’t forget me, Sherlock.” he demanded quietly. He hung up the cell phone and you assumed he was on his way out.  
About an hour and a half later, you heard the sound of a key being slide into the door. Hearing it unlock, the door swung open to reveal Jim walking in carrying five grocery bags. “Hi, Y/N! I think I got everything you asked for!” He imformed you cheerfully, his tone nothing like it had been earlier. With a smile on his face, he set the bags down and began to pull the items that he got for you one by one. Bottles and bottles of medicine stacked up beside multiple cans of various soups and different types of tissues. “Yes Jim,” You snickered, “I think you definitely got everything I asked for.”  
His smile lit up the room. Taking in his pure joy and beauty, you began to genuinely smile for the first time that day. Suddenly the overwhelming urge to cough came over you. A coughing fit overtook you, as Jim’s happy face quickly changed into one of worry. “What can I get you?” he questioned, eyebrows knit together in concentration. You pointed to a bottle of cough medicine and he quickly took it in his hands and poured you out a serving. You downed it, your coughing immediately slowing, and you groaned as you dropped back onto the couch. Some bags rustling and medicine caps being screwed on caught your attention, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit up and look.  
Jim’s face suddenly appeared above yours, a willing to please look on his face as he asked you, “Need anything else?”  
You thought for a minute, and began to move your body back to an upright position. Your neck and back ached badly, so you asked him to give you a massage. “Anything for you, Y/N.” he replied with a happy chirp, taking a seat on the couch behind you, putting his magic fingers to work on your neck. He clearly had to focus on being gentle, as he was not good at massaging peoples necks. Choking? Yes. Massaging? Absolutely not. Melting into the touch you started to feel better instantly, knowing that this was one of the things you had needed all day.  
After your massage you both laid back on the couch, your head tucked under his chin with your arms around his waist, and watched television. He pressed gentle kisses to your forehead everytime you made a noise of discomfort.  
After awhile you began to feel well enough to eat something. Hearing this, Jim hopped up and picked up all the different soups he had gotten, letting you choose one. “Classic chicken noodle soup please.” you informed him with a nod and a smile. He took the cans into the kitchen and began to cook.  
Once he had accidentally burnt a can or two of soup (don’t ask how) he finally was able to make a successful batch of the magical liquid. He brought two bowls of soup, and a blanket that you both shared while you sat, eating and watching a cheesy movie.  
After the movie finished, you played some board games, which he won most of, except for Clue, which he was not happy about. “How?” He exclaimed, running a hand through his tousled locks. “Oh dear.” you said, trying to hide your amusement, “I think I won. I think I won the game about murder, which you should’ve known all about.” a wide smirk spreading across your lips.  
“I should’ve!” he said loudly, “I most definitely should have. How did you win?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested that you may have cheated. “Hey don’t look at me like that, loser!” You giggled, putting your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. “I’m not a loser!” He sniggered, breaking character. “I still think you cheated somehow though…” he mumbled under his breath. “I did not!” you said still giggling. “Am I going to have to tickle the truth out of you?” he warned, trying to act serious. Your eyes grew wide with the realization that he was going to get you. You tried to get away from him as fast as you could, but his large hands firmly placed on your sides stopped you.  
Feather light touches graced your sides as your giggles turning into full blown shrieks and laughter. “Just admit it!” he taunted, his smirk growing larger by the second, his fingers unrelenting on your abdomen. You couldn’t take it anymore and finally gave in after a few minutes. “Fine!” you squeaked, hardly able to get the word out between laughs, “I cheated!” you admitted. He stopped tickling you, and dropped his head down to kiss you. Lips inches from yours, he whispered, “That’s my Y/N.” He smiled and kissed you softly, before you pushed him away, not wanting him to get sick. “I don’t care if I get sick.” His irish accent very apparent, “As long as I can spend my time with you, darling.”  
Laying back down on the couch, you watched another movie until you fell asleep in his arms. He watched you sleep peacefully for awhile until he drifted off as well.


	6. I Want To Break Free (Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets in a bit of trouble with Mycroft, and as a Queen song plays in the background, Jim saves the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you Enjoy, please leave a comment and kudos

Opening your eyes, you felt disoriented and less than stable in the dark room. Trying to adjust to the darkness you tried to rub your eyes.  
Dark room.

Pulling your arms up to do so, you discovered that you couldn’t move them anymore than four inches in any direction from their firmly attached place against the cold metal bars of the chair you were sitting in.  
Handcuffs.  
Sighing, you tried the trick that had worked a couple of time before when some amateurs managed to capture you when you were first starting out. Tightening all of your muscles, and bending your thumbs around your pinky fingers to make your hands as small as possible so you could slip them out. After a few attempts of that, you realised that it wasn’t going to work. By this time, your eyes had begun to adjust to the room, and you could make out the slightest sliver of light being emitted from around what appeared to be a metal door. Noticing that there was more light in the room than what there should have been from just that one light source, you deduced that the room had mirrors in it.  
Interrogation room.  
Sniffing, you picked up hints of teakwood, earl gray tea and cake. Three things you knew only one person used on a regular basis. Having only heard of the man from your boyfriend, you knew who he was.  
Mycroft Holmes.  
You smiled to yourself, knowing that you were essentially safe, and began to try to remember how exactly you had landed your self here. Eyebrows drawn together, you squinted trying your very best to remember what happened. But try as you might, you came up with nothing. Feeling a sudden rush of sleep deprivation wash over you, you tried one more time to break out of your bonds. Lethargic and powerless, you began to fall asleep, not being able to stay awake.  
Drugged.  
You tried to remember these facts that would prove useful for the next time you woke up.  
A loud door slam echoed throught the room jolting you bolt upright in the steel chair, your hands attempting to fly up to shield your eyes from the bright rays of light that flooded the room. The bonds dug into your wrists as a harsh reminder that you were not allowed to move. Quickly gaining your composure, and blank faced, you sat looking into the cold blue eyes of, whom you could only assume was, Mycroft Holmes. A sinister smile graced your lips as you began to speak before he was able to sit down. “He told me about you, you know.” you informed him. He froze for a second, to which you accredited yourself a small victory for being able to get under his skin in the first sentence you said to him. Taking a seat he clearly gathered his words, and began to speak what seemed to be a rehearsed speech. “You, Y/N are being held under investigation and interrogation until you tell us about your relationship with,” he paused, “him. And what your role was in the robbery of the crown jewels.” he finished, only then deciding to look you in your Y/E/C eyes. “If you choose not to cooperate, I believe we have some tools that might make your decision a little easier.” he said, nodding to the table sitting beside him, with scalpels and other things laying on it. “Oh, so you wanna hear all the juicy details about our relationship, eh?” you retaliated, wiggling an eyebrow at him, ignoring his threat, and insinuating that you had alot of… interesting things to tell him. Mycroft looked extremely displeased, and muttered, “You two are exactly the same. Immature.” while rubbing his temple, realizing that this was going to be a long day. “Im sorry, but im afraid you will never get anything from me.” you said, putting on a dazzling smile. “Fine, if you choose to be that way about it…” he said, picking up one of the shiny tools from the metal table.  
You opened your mouth to say something in retort, when suddenly, a familiar song faded into the room, throughout the speakers in the whole building. The sweet sound of Queen pouring into the room made you grin wickedly. Mycroft dropped the tool and began to frantically look around the room for the cause of the song. ‘I want to break free, I want to beak free’ filled your ears as you sighed, catching Mycroft’s attention, you said to him as he looked at you incredulously, “Sorry, love. But im afraid this is where I get on.” The music suddenly dimmed and Jim’s voice rang clearly throught the speakers, “All aboard the Moriarty Express. Choo-Choo.” The music faded back in but this time Jim’s singing filled the room. A huge hole was blew throught the metal door as two men flanked you, removing you from your restraints. “Thanks boys.” you said standing up and stretching, patting them both on the back. Mycrofts men tried to take Jim’s men, but their efforts were futile. They easily knocked them out and dragged mycroft into the room next door, all the while he fought them and cursed them out. Jim’s voice over would play something a little different every few seconds. “Ive fallen in love for the first time. This time i know its for real.” as you hear him sing, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You spun around, ready to knock someone out, when you see Jim standing there in a sharp Westwood suit and alligator skin shoes, with a microphone in his hand. You start to make a quip, but he shushes you, brushing a few stray stands of your Y/H/C out of your face. He continues singing, “Ive fallen in love with you, Y/N.” Your eyes grew wide, hearing him say it for the first time in your entire relationship. The music fades to nothing, as you realised something.   
“You planned this didn’t you?” you asked, furrowing your brows but unable to keep a smile off your face. His pink lips turned up into a half-smile, half-snarl. He ran a hand through his jet black hair, messing it up.  
“You cheeky son of a-” he cut you off with his lips crashing into yours. He was never a soft kisser. Rough and desperate were better terms that you used to describe it. Just like the two of you.   
“Had to make sure you were in it for the long haul with me.” He whispered while trying to catch his breath after breaking the kiss.  
“Well, I think I made that decision when I first decided to go out with a homicidal maniac.” you replied, chuckling. “Hey!” he said shoving you away from him and putting a hand over his chest, feigning being taken aback. “Im a *consulting* homicidal maniac, do your research.” he finished, then grabbed you hand and lead you out of the broken door. “Did you plan on having him torture me?” You asked, pausing your stride to hear his answer. “No, I did not.” he confessed, hanging his head, “I really didn’t have that much to do with the whole thing in the first place, you sort of walked into his trap by yourself, which is something we will need to work on, by the way.” he shot you a wink. As you continued walked down the long hall, Mycroft yelled from the room he was in, “HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?“Jim stuck his head into the room that he was in and simply said, “I was in here for two months, I learned all the intrances and exits on my second day. Oh, and next time, don’t threaten to torture my girlfriend.” he looked at you, and grinned like a wolf, “That’s for me to do.” he said, making you go red. He slammed and locked the door to the office that Mycroft was in, and walked hand in hand with you out the door, to where his henchmen were standing, holding open the doors to the helicopter. Before stepping into the copter, Jim took your shoulder and made you look at him. Gesturing to the man stood beside him, he asked you, “Was i right? He’s really not too caring in the after glow, is he?”   
to which you replied, “Yes, dear, you were right, but his stamina is good.” while taking your seat. Jim shrugged, taking his seat beside you, never letting go of your hand with his large, calloused one. He called out, “All Aboard!” as the doors shut and the helicopter took off.


	7. Progress (Sherlock Holmes/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grocery Shopping take an... interesting turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

The cool August breeze graced your skin as you tighted up the scarf hanging loosely around your neck. Clutching the crinkled paper in your hand, you sped up your pace as the sound of your boots clicked on the London pavement. Soon, you arrived at the little shop that was home to so many items you had no idea how they fit them all in such a tiny building. Peering into the shop window you smiled a little bit seeing how quaint it looked. Standing in front of the heavy double doors you quickly pulled them open, feeling the warm air rush over and envelope you. Sighing, you slowed your pace and began to survey the store. With it being a Sunday, there were not many people there and the light sound of a classical music piece, Bach probably, danced over the speakers. Taking a quick glace at the crumpled list in your hand, you see the few items you needed to pick up before heading back to your apartment.  
● Eggs  
● Milk  
● New Jacket  
Having been in this store before, you knew that jackets would be near the back of the store near the hunting and camping supplies.  
After picking up the other items you needed and putting them into your basket, you headed back to the camping section. Rounding the corner of one of the isles, you heard a deep, familiar voice growing more and more anxious as the clerk, apparently, didn’t understand what the man was asking for.  
Peeking around, you watched the encounter.  
“Come on. Don’t tell me you imbeciles don’t sell harnesses here.” the curly haired man said impatiently, tapping his long fingers in the glass case of knives. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t believe we do.” the clerk responded, beginning to sound exasperated and slightly worried about what this man would want with harnesses.  
Walking up behind the familiar man and glancing into his basket you see two hunting knives, 3 boxes of bullets, two bags of jerky, a sleeping bag, some arrows, and a brand new shotgun. “Going somewhere?” you asked with a smirk spreading across your face as you leaned your right shoulder into the man’s wool coat. He visibly tightened and then relaxed as he processed who you were. “Yes.” he muttered turning to you, revealing his face, unshaven for a few weeks it seemed, and set with a discontent look. You immediately grew concerned, instantly knowing this was not going to be another one of his experiments. “Whats wrong Sherlock.” you stated, not really expecting a full answer. “I-” he stuttered, “I have to go away for awhile.” he murmured, a sad half-smile, lightly touching his features. It was one of the few looks you did not like on him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You said pulling him into a different isle so you could have privacy. “Come with me.” he whispered. “What?” you responded, knitting you eyebrows up into a deep frown. “Come with me.” He repeated, but with more conviction this time.   
You knew that if Sherlock had to disappear for awhile, it might be a long while and you could not bare the thought of not being around your best friend for that long. “But what about John?” you asked in a hushed tone, leaving out the part here you agree to going where ever be needed to go with him. “He can’t know.” He said, eyes welling up with tears. “Oh, Sherlock.” you said wrapping your arm around his, and pulling him into a half hug.   
“So please,” he continued, “so I don’t lose my sanity, please, Y/N, I’m begging you, come with me.” His eyes pleading with you, his knees starting to give out from underneath him.  
After you stablized him on his own feet, you pulled away from him, grabbed him by both shoulders, and looked him in his bright, crystal blue eyes with you rich Y/E/C, “Look at me,” you whispered so only he could hear, “I will follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant I could spend more time with you. I love you.” you stopped yourself.  
Oh no.  
You were sure you had ruined it.  
You let it slip that you were in love with the genius detective.  
He stared at you with a blank face. Shaking, you removed your hands from his shoulders and took your eyes off of him.  
“Im-” you started, “so sorry-” you whimpered, tears rolling down your cheek. Two gentle hands were placed subtlety on your shoulders. Two fingers under your chin, forced you to look up at him. His large thumb swept away a rogue tear falling down your face.   
A huge, genuine smile came across his face. You smiled back at him. “Did you just-” he began, “Yes, yes i did, Sherlock Holmes.” you finished for him. “I just confessed my love for you in isle 13 of the sporting section of a store.” You said, beginning to laugh.   
“Not quite how I imagined it would happen.” he smirked, as your eyes grew wide. “Wait, you feel the same?” you asked shyly, not really wanting to hear the answer. “Of course love. I was just waiting for the perfect time. But, I guess this was the perfect time.” he chuckled.  
You threw your arms around him and squeezed him tight, joy and happiness washing over you, almost making you forget about the situation ahead. “I was really hoping we would have had more progress in our relationship before this happened.” you said, still laughing at the circumstances.  
A few moments passed as you just stared into eachothers eyes. “Well,” he said, an idea clearly coming into his mind, “come with me.” he grabbed your hand and dragged you into the next isle over.  
Confused, you tried to ask his why you were in this isle. He just pointed above himself at the sign hanging from the ceiling with the number ‘14’ on it. As you stood staring at it, trying to figure out what he meant, him lips crashed into yours as you gasped at the sudden feeling.   
Any thought you had in your mind at that point was gone in a heartbeat. After what felt like ages you both came up for air and you looked up again, frowning, still trying to figure out why you were in isle 14. You opened your mouth to ask him, but he cut you off before you could get a word out. “Progress.” he said simply, pointing to the sign again before kissing you once more.


	8. The Crazy Doctor(Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has to go to the doctor. Jim is an interesting doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

Rubbing your arm anxiously, you walked into the doctors office. Feeling sick with a mild cold, you decided to head to the doctor. Your usual psychisian was out for the day, so you were told over the phone that you would be seen by a Dr. Moriarty, a name that sounded oddly familiar and ominous to you.  
Walking down the corridor to the waiting room felt like a death march. Having never liked going to the doctor, your anxiety definitely spiked while you were visiting there. A nurse greeted you at a large wooden desk with a computer on it. She asked for your name and what you thought you were sick with, and you mumbled, “My name is Y/N and I think I have cold.” sniffling as you said it.  
She told you to take a seat and that another nurse would be out soon to take you back. Nodding, you took a seat on a hard plastic chair that didn’t match the aesthetic of the room at all. Tapping your fingers on your thighs, you became exponentially more nervous as time went on. Really, you probably shouldn’t have been worried, it was just a cold, and you knew that, but something kept nagging at your brain ever since you called to make the appointment and they said Dr. Moriarty would be checking you out.  
Something just didn’t set right with you. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you willed yourself to calm down. The sound of a door opening and latching echoed through the near empty waiting room. A woman: brunette, tall, with bright red lipstick, and in a nurse outfit, stepped into your view from the door. A faux smile unrolled across her lips as she called your name. You stood immediately, just wanting to get this trip over as fast as possible.  
“Hello.” The woman spoke, kindly but stern, “My name is Irene and I will be your nurse today.” You just nodded quickly, following her through the door with a sign hanging off of it saying, ‘Employees Only’.  
After a couple of turns down the hall and a blood pressure check, she opened a small door, that led into an even smaller patient room. Once you got settled onto the examination table, Irene crisply stated, “The doctor will be in to see you shortly.”  
Closing the door as she stepped out, you were left alone in the cool, blue toned room. You waited for a good ten minutes, staring at the door handle, until you finally saw it begin to move. A rush of cold air swept into the door, along with a man with a sideswept messy quiff, in a lab coat. The smile he gave you imitated that of the Cheshire Cats. “Alright, Y/N.” He mewed, his lips curling up even more, “How are we feeling today?” he asked while loosening the tie around his neck.  
Noticing the sharp edges of his chin, the stubble growing there, and how lightly his eyes danced around the room, you instantly felt more comfortable around him. You noted that you had a crush on him.  
“Um…” you began shyly, avoiding eye contact with the handsome man, “I think I have a cold-” He cut you off, “Ah!” He exclaimed with a flash of excitement showing in his amber eyes. “Textbook case of Female Hysteria, it seems to be going around right now!” He sang in a sing-song tone. He turned to the marble counter he was leaning against and began to throw random things around and opening and closing drawers. All while humming an unfamiliar tune that was offensively off beat.  
Swallowing hard, you tried to inch yourself away from this doctor that you now realized could possibly be psychotic. Your mind began to wander as you thought about all of your previous crushes, and you wondered why you always liked the crazy ones. You really wished to get out of this room and get this visit over with. ‘I know he must have been joking, how else would he have become a doctor?’ you thought to yourself. Running that sentence through your mind over and over started to calm your nerves.  
You looked over to where he stood, and watched him work. Every so often his broad shoulders would tense under the thin lab coat. Mesmerized while watching his muscles work, you slowly started to noticed that he was lifting up a large syringe. He flicked it loosening the thick medicine inside the tube. His smile was still as wickedly disheartening as before.  
All of your prior happy thoughts about his muacles were swept away and replaced with those of horror and fear. A shocked and terrified look came across your features as you whimpered out a weak, “Please no.”  
He turned to you with a snarl on his face, eyes seemingly dead to the world, as he advanced towards you. He paused, only to press on the needle, and shoot some of the medicine out.  
You pushed yourself off of the vinyl table and rushed to the corner of the dimmly lit room. This was your worst nightmare coming true. Covering your face with your arms you immediately tried to prepare your mind and body for the worst possible scenario. Then you realized it. This was Jim Moriarty, the world’s most infamous consulting criminal, made famous by the great Sherlock Holmes. You hadn’t seen his face in the news for awhile, because he had apparently died on the rooftop of St. Barts Hospital, right before Sherlock jumped. That was over a year ago and you had no clue how this man was still living. Sherlock was, as far as you knew, one hundred percent dead, so there would be no one to stop him if he was still evil.  
You feared for your life as you heard him step closer to you. You couldn’t bare to look at him. Then the sound of metal crashing to the floor made you flinch. He dropped the syringe and kicked it away. A soft touch landed on your arm. You instinctively pulled away. “I- I’m so sorry.” he croaked, dropping his hand off of your arm. “It was just a joke. Some of the other patients thought it was funny. I swear, I do not want to hurt you.” He spoke gently, not wanting to scare you away.  
Taking your arm off of your face, you wiped away the tears that were beginning to dry there. Not looking him in his deep brown eyes, you clenched your fists, and prepared your words. “Your Jim. Jim Moriarty.” you muttered, hating him with every once of your being. “If your going to kill me, do it quick.” you said, more tears falling from your Y/E/C eyes.  
You heard him gasp. You looked up at him to see him genuinely offended. “I do not want to kill you!” He said a little louder now, desperately trying to get his point across to you. “Really?” You asked, an eyebrow cocked up in uncertainty, still wondering if he was lying. “I. Promise.” He breathed, taking your hand in his.  
Your breath hitched in your throat at the touch, still not being able to stop your body’s physical attraction to the psychopath. A few moments later he finally inquired of you, “Why did you act out so much at the syringe?”, his irish accent thick as he spoke in a lower tone.  
Taking a deep breath, you explained, “I do not like going to the doctor, nor do I much care for needles.” you shuddered, not trusting your voice which was slightly shaky after everything that happened. He wrapped an arm around you, and pulled you closer to his warm core. “Don’t worry. You will not be needing a shot. This time at least, dear.” he slyly said, looking down to you and winking. You somehow trusted this man, a man that you knew had done awful things to people, the man that had ended Sherlock Holmes’ life. You knew he was telling the truth when he said he wouldn’t hurt you. You hated being in such close proximity to such a dangerous man, but it gave you a sense of adrenaline that you hadn’t ever felt before and you liked it.  
He pressed a light, small kiss to your forehead and used his thumb to wipe away a drying tear on your rosy cheek. Looking up at him you noticed that he was smiling to himself, a fact which he tried to hide from you. You chuckled, which just made him grin even larger.  
You later found out over dinner that he had been trying to change his life completely after Sherlock, and put himself back together in the image that he had always wanted. Grabbing his hand, you vowed to help him make his life right, no matter what you needed to do. All of which ended up with him going back to his old lifestyle, and you becoming the Heiress to the most complex consulting criminal network throughout Europe.


	9. Fight For Your Life (Sherlock Holmes/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High School AU with Sherlock and the reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

You stepped off of the bus with a huff. Walking through the large glass doors of your high school, you kept your head down and stuck close to the red brick wall as you walked through the hall. You hated going to school. Not because you hated learning, no, that wasn’t it. It was because of the pompous, arrogant bullies that riddled the schoolyard like a disease, since the 1st grade. They fed off of each other’s anger and took it out on the so called “Nerds.” Since it was now your senior year in high school, you had learned to perfect the act of staying under the aggressors radar. After spending your entire middle school life being laughed at and shoved in the halls, you finally figured it out. You took note of who got bullied. The really low graded students and the extremely high graded students were always the targets. So you learned how to scored perfectly in the center of the gradient. If the best you could get was 100, you always scored 50. When your grades began to drop suddenly the year before you started high school, your parents came to you quite frustrated. They too were considered “Gifted”, so when you explained what you were doing one day, after you came home wet and with a large bruise on your side from being shoved into a water fountain, they were cautious and understanding. They offered to transfer you to another school but you declined. It was the same everywhere, and you knew it. So after that, you scored exactly half on every test. Your plan had worked well for 3 years, until you got to your senior year. Your parents had approached you, and told you what you had been dreading to hear. You would have to raise your grades in order to get into a good college. You reluctantly agreed, and immediately started scoring at 100% again. Not a week after getting a perfect score on your English test, you got pushed and called names in the hall. You were once again branded a “nerd” and targeted because of that. Walking into your first class, you nodded a greeting to the teacher and took your usual place in the back of the class, gently rubbing your now green shaded forearm from where you had a book tossed at you. Opening your book, you began to scan over the material that you already knew. Your hair blocked your vision of the rest of the classroom as it filled up with students. Your usual spot in the back of the class didn’t have anyone in the seats next to it, so it was surprising to hear someone grunting as they tried to move the chair out from the desk beside yours. Frowning, you subtly peeked out, tucking your Y/H/C behind your ear as you noticed a new student attempting to take a seat next to you. There had been talk that there was a transfer student coming in, and that he was extremely intelligent. He was clutching his right arm while holding all of the work books under his left arm. He groaned as he dropped a book onto the floor, it sliding under your desk. You bent down and retrieved the book, gently placing it on his desk, and you stood and pulled his chair out for him. He only nodded in thanks as you both took your seats. “What happened to your arm?” you asked quietly under your breath. “Someone punched me.” He stated, not looking over to you. His curls stuck to his forehead because he was sweating, presumably while he was trying to escape from the offender. You hummed in understanding, as the teacher began her lesson. “Boring.” you heard his whisper to himself as you chuckled, stopping yourself when you saw him glance over at you, a small smile forming on his lips. Halfway through the math pop quiz, you and the boy beside you had finished in record time, silently having a competition of who could finish first. You tied, both taking your papers up to the front of the class to be graded. Walking back to your seats you heard a few people call out names like, “Freak” and “Weirdo” to the both of you. Looking down at the floor as you walked, you quickly stole a look over to the boy walking next to you. His fists were clenched, knuckles white from anger, his jaw firmly set below his high cheekbones. You sat down and waited for everyone else to finish. Sighing, you took a piece of paper from your notebook and scribbled out a sentence, “What’s your name?” You folded the paper quietly and looked around the room before gently tossing it onto his desk. He cocked an eyebrow towards you, to which you rolled your eyes and gestured to the note. He smirked, and unfolded the piece of parchment and scanned it briefly. He pulled out his pencil and wrote down one word. He handed the note back to you and you opened it once again to see the word, “Sherlock.” You smiled at the name, replaying it over and over in your mind. You heard him tap his foot impatiently, waiting for the other students to finish their tests. You quickly jotted down a sentence to him, “My name’s Y/N. Don’t worry, this happens everyday, that why I bring an extra book to read.” You tossed it back over onto his desk as you watched him open it once again. He frowned, which made you wonder if you said something wrong, but then he wrote down something else to you. When you received the note again, he hastily opened it. “Interesting name. What book?” you felt a bit of judgement coming from his question, as if which book you brought would make him decide what he thought of you. Bringing your bag up onto your lap you inhaled deeply as you placed your book up onto your table, standing it up to where he could see the title. “Shakespeare’s Greatest Works” graced the front of the old book cover. He nodded to you, looking at the piece of paper, as if he was asking for it back. You obliged him, and you nervously watched him write out a slightly longer sentence to you. You found yourself staring at his lightly toned arms, hidden under a purple button-up that was rolled quarter way up his arms. You took in the bruise forming on his arm that looked oddly similar to yours. The paper landing on your desk brought you out of your imagination. “Good choice. My favorite happens to be Hamlet, although all of the emotions expressed throughout confuse me. Maybe we could discuss his works at some point.” You stared blankly at his question that was posed as a statement. You saw him looking at you, and you looked into his blue-grey eyes, and began to nod. He smiled and looked back down at his book once other students started standing up and turning in their work. You finished the rest of the day thinking about the mysterious boy that sat next to you in math class. That was apparently the only class you shared, and you didn’t even see him at lunch. Waving goodbye to your teacher from your last class of the day, you walked out into the hall keeping your head down once again, practically hugging the cold wall. There was a loud bang up ahead, and a commotion broke out. You considered just leaving so you could avoid getting hurt, but you felt yourself being pulled to the fight area. A mess of dark brown curly hair was sprawled out on the floor, and being kicked in the back and stomach by multiple people. Realizing who it was, you called out a loud, “SHERLOCK!” Grabbing a fist that was beginning to fly towards him, you yelled, “Leave him alone!” You saw him look up to you and shake his head, not wanting you to get involved. A look of pain flashed over his face, as a fist collided with his face. Students were cheering the whole thing on, yelling slurs and calling both of you names. It was already too late to get out, as you felt yourself getting dragged down to the tile floor as well, feeling the air rush out of your lungs as you felt the first blow to your side. You met Sherlock’s eyes and saw him give you a sympathetic look, before you were punched in the face. You immediately felt your face begin to swell, your eye clamping shut tightly. Teachers rushed over, pulling the students off of the two of you, but not before some damage had been done. After the crowd was broke up, which it took all of the teachers to control the students, you and Sherlock were left alone in the hall, both of you gasping for air. Your vision faded, the last image you saw was Sherlock laying beside you, eyes closed with blood covering his face. You woke in a bright room, hearing a beeping as you looked down at your arm which was wrapped in bandages, seeing an IV in the other. You looked across the room, and there laid Sherlock, still passed out, gashes and bruises speckling his body. After an hour, he woke up as well, agitated and confused. He looked at you, and visibly relaxed. “Don’t do that again.” He said deeply. “What?” you called across the room, frowning at the boy. “Try and help me. You should have just left me there.” he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You felt anger start to rile up in your stomach. “What if it had been me? Huh? Would you have just left me?” you asked, looking away from him, a tear forming in your eye. “No because-” He stopped himself. You raised an eyebrow, and prodded, “Because why, Sherlock?” He thinned his lips into a hard line and closed his eyes. “Because,” he paused, “You are special.” He whispered. You gasped, trying to figure out what he was saying. You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off saying, “Will you go to prom with me?” He asked quietly. “As friends.” he added quickly, not wanting to seem as though he was coming onto you. You smirked and agreed. He beamed and nodded. The room grew quiet once again. The nurses came in, removed your IVs and told what was wrong with the both of you. Sherlock had two fractured ribs and some mild cuts, and you had a black eye and a hairline fracture on your left arm. They left to call your parents and his as well. You stood up, and walked over to his bed where he was attempting to stand. You helped him to his feet, and flung his arm over your shoulder as you limped along with him around the room so you could both stretch your muscles. After he had regained most of his strength, he was able to walk by himself onto your room’s balcony. You followed him out, watching as he clutched his side and leaned against the railing. You stood beside him, and let him put some of his weight onto you to relieve some pressure. It was dark out by this point, and you both looked up at the sky. “It’s amazing to think that there are so many other planets.” you murmured in awe at the millions of stars above you. “There are other planets?” He asked confused, looking at you curiously. “You didn’t know that?” You gasped, baffled at his question. “Stuff like that is not important to me.” He admitted, he shyly smiled at the town below and beyond you. “It’s elementary stuff, Sherlock!” You laughed, pulling him ever so slightly closer as a cool breeze whipped around you. He smiled down to you, as you stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Suddenly his bruised and plump lips pressed against yours, and he placed a hand gently on your cheek, careful to avoid touching your bruised skin. You pulled away, and looked deeply into his eyes. “I guess we may not be going as friends to that dance after all.” you said nudging him softly. “I suppose not.” He mumbled, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on the top of your head.


	10. The Dentist Appointment (Jim Moriarty/Reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader has a slight fear of the dentist. Jim helps her with said fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy, please leave a comment or kudos

‘Watching a cheesy chick-flick at eleven in the morning with your boyfriend Jim was the best thing ever’ you decided, glancing over to the man sat beside you on the luxurious couch. You took in his features, the sharp lines of his cheekbones against his warm brown eyes and smiled. A warm feeling spread through you, making you feel giddy inside. Jim felt your stare, and raised an eyebrow at you, peeling his eyes away from the movie. You blushed and quickly looked back at the TV.  
It was the first Saturday Jim had off work for a while and the two of you decided to spend your shared day wisely. You both woke up early, a game plan prepared of what you were going to do that day. After making breakfast together, pancakes and bacon, you went to the living room and played video games for an hour or two. You wrecked him at Mario Kart, although he still says you somehow cheated and he will find out. You laughed him off and then he suggested you watch a movie. “Which one?” you asked, throwing the controller into the chair. “You pick.” He said sweetly, smirking up at you. It was an easy choice. You grabbed the remote and turned on Netflix. After a little searching, you found what you were looking for. Mean Girls began to play, as you settled back into your seat, with Jim’s arm slung around your shoulder.  
Halfway through the movie is when he caught you staring. Your eyes locked, both of you already losing interest in the movie quickly. He pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You blushed madly, grinning into his plain white tee. You felt him chuckling, his laugh vibrating his chest where your head was resting. Your phone, which was sitting on the coffee table decided to buzz at that very second, ruined the moment. You sighed and began to pull away from him to grab the phone. “Ah, ah, ah.” He reprimanded, giving you a half smile and wagging his long finger at you. The night before your day together, you both decided that if one person’s phone was going off, the other had to take it, that way no one could get sucked into work or whatever. He leaned forward and plucked the smartphone from the table smoothly. You shrugged, and tucked yourself back into his side, his arm around you tightening. You breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of his rich cologne. You hummed in silent contentment, as you heard your phone unlock above you. You lazily peered up, watching his facial expressions as he read whatever text it was you got. A hard frown was drawn onto his face, making you begin to worry slightly. His arm stiffened around you as he began to pull it away. You couldn’t handle it any longer, and finally asked, “What is it?” His eyes met yours for a split second before returning back to the phone. “You have skipped out on the dentist about 6 times now?” He asked, frowning, but almost laughing at how childish it was. Realization dawned on you, it was that time of year again. The dentist texted you, trying to get you to come in. Ever since you were little, you hated the dentist. The prodding, poking around in your mouth, and x rays were just too nerve wracking for you. It was silly really, you had no problem being the first female consulting criminal who happened to be in a relationship with the world’s first consulting criminal, but the dentist struck a fear into your heart that Sherlock Holmes could never. You nodded ever so slightly, affirming his suspicions. He sighed.  
A few moments later he spoke again. “C’mon. We are going to the dentist.” he declared, standing up and grabbing your hand pulling you up as well. “No.” you said threateningly, letting all your weight fall back into the couch. You looked away from him and crossed your arms. He rolled his molasses colored eyes, smirking the tiniest bit at your stubbornness. That is one of the reasons he fell in love with you. Aside from you being an extremely smart and pretty criminal. He thought for a moment before gently placing his palm over the top of your hand resting on your knee. “I promise,” he began, his thumb rubbing reassuring circles atop your hand, “I will be right there beside you. If anything happens, it will be taken care of.” He flashed a toothy grin, his pearly whites showing viciously. It was a subtle warning to anyone who might try to hurt you, and it gave you the courage to stand up and walk past him. “Fine, I’ll go to your stupid dentist.” You spat, brushing past him, grazing his broad shoulder with yours. Not looking back, you heard him give a small sound of victory which made you smile. You would overcome your nervousness for Jim’s sake.  
You stepped into the dental office, clutching Jim’s hand. He grinned to you and nodded, gently leading you up to the desk. You gave them your name and they told you to go to room 13. “Lucky 13.” Jim said into your ear as you walked down the corridor to the room. You passed a dentist who gave you and Jim an odd look with a snarled lip causing you to ashamedly drop Jim’s hand. Jim glared at doctor, making her look away quickly. He took note of the doctor’s name and vowed to himself to make her pay for making you feel bad. He huffed and grabbed your hand aggressively. You arrived in the room and he took a seat beside your chair. He squeezed your hand, and a feeling dread washed over you. Panic rose in your chest, “I-I can’t do this!” You stuttered looking around the room. You tried to stand up, but he pushed you back down. “Yes you can.” He said matter of factly. He opened his mouth to say something else but the dentist walked in.  
As you sat back in the chair, they did everything they needed to to your teeth. Luckily, there was nothing wrong with them and everything was good. Jim held your hand through the whole thing. While you were walking out, Jim pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I knew you could do it.” he whispered into your ear. You blushed, and leaned into his side. “I want a doughnut.” you declared as you took your seat in the car. He chuckled, “You just got your teeth cleaned!” He exclaimed. “I. Want. One. I just faced a fear and I want one.” You said through gritted teeth. “Anything you want then, Y/N.” He said shutting your car door, smirking at you.


End file.
